By now you’re well aware of my mediocrity as a triathlete, but did you know that I also fancy myself a mediocre snowboarder? Well, I do. A few years ago Jason and his family took me up to Stevens so I could rent a snowboard and hurl myself down the mountain. When we got there, we saw that Stevens was jam-packed full of people so we ended up hanging out at a family friend’s cabin, sledding down hills and engaging in general tomfoolery. At one point Jason’s sister let me ride her snowboard down the hill. I strapped in, shoved off and rocketed down about 20 feet before catching the front...

My friend Lauren (who as of now I shall dub “L2″ because I have another friend named Lauren whom I met before this one, and I don’t want to confuse all ten of you Mediocre Athlete readers whenever I talk about the other one) had taken a ballet Pilates class in the fall and urged me to take it again with her this winter. I had mentioned in my yoga post how I had tried Pilates once before and thought it was lame, but I’m generally a good sport about trying new things (plus I need blogging material for this site), so I agreed to take the class with her and her friend. The class is...

On Sunday I dragged my sedentary ass outside and shuffled around Capitol Hill for four measly miles. The following is a transcript of the conversation I had with my body. Enjoy. Me: Hey body, get up. Body: What? Why? What for? Me: We’re going for a run. Body: Ehhhhhh, I don’t wanna. I want to sit on the couch and watch House Hunters while eating Reese’s pieces. Me: Come on, we haven’t gone on a run in weeks, and we haven’t had consistent workouts since October. Body: Meh. Me: You’re looking a little flabby lately… Body: Isn’t big supposed to be...

Thus far, Mediocre Athlete has been lovingly read by a whopping dozen or so people: me, Jason, Jason’s parents, Jason’s aunt and uncle, our trainer, and some training buddies. In a nutshell, our readership consists of a handful of people who know us in person. This is unsurprising — it’s not like we expect a giant devoted following of people who eagerly await our posts about how sore our asses are after long rides or how much we stink after lake swims. Thus, imagine my surprise when I received this email a few days ago: Hi Rebecca, My name is Sebastian, I’m 24 yrs old...

Last February when Rebecca and I decided to tackle our first season of triathlons, my most immediate concern revolved firmly around the fact that I am strongly opposed to drowning. Not only that, but the last time I had done any swimming outside of treading water in a lake or jumping around in the ocean like a total idiot was probably around 10 years ago. So, knowing we had only a matter of months to get from a “dead man’s float” and advanced dog paddle skill level to a manageably decent crawl stroke, we both set off for the local pool. I’m pretty sure our first swim was only...